


Squeeze.

by Faranae



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood, Claws, Hate Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Injuries, NoSuit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faranae/pseuds/Faranae
Summary: Jevil coaxes Rouxls into indulging on a whim.





	Squeeze.

**Author's Note:**

> Short NoSuit fic inspired by a few doodles Moon hasn't finished/posted yet. 
> 
> I 100% blame my demented siblings (Moon and Spud) for this monstrosity since they've pretty much singlehandedly created the goddamn #NoSuit crackship on both Tumblr and Twitter. Hit up [Moon's 18+ Twitter](https://twitter.com/thelustmoongazr) here, and [Spud's 18+ Twitter](https://twitter.com/smutinthe) here. They didn't write it but it wouldn't exist if not for them SO-
> 
> Also my 18+ Twitter is [here, @TSFaranut.](https://twitter.com/TSFaranut)

The giddy screech of garbled dialect was near-incomprehensible.

"Wh-What..." Rouxls Kaard muttered, blinking the sting of sweat from his eyes as he came down from his fervor. "What didst thou say," he asked more clearly. The spell of the moment was broken, the Duke suddenly hyper-aware of the suffocating mix of sensations assaulting him at once.

The heat came first, of course. How could it not, with the imp beneath him comparable to a furnace in contrast to his own crystalline chill? After that rose the musk that permeated the small space; a salty air tainted by the unmistakable tang of copper from the court jester's wounds. One sensation after another came to him in a dizzying flurry, all competing for the front of his awareness against the pressure ringing the base of his shaft.

What finally claimed the Duke's full attention, however, was the sharp pain of claws digging into the pulse-point of his wrist. Rouxls tried to withdraw his hand from around the lesser man's throat, but the sharp points only dug in deeper.

"COME NOW," the imp keened, his tone bordering on pitiful but his grin screaming of malicious intent. "DON'T BECOME A BORE! NO, THAT WILL. NOT. DO." Each playful punctuating wail brought with it a tightening of Jevil's grip on Rouxls' wrist. Rivulets of blood seeped from the fresh wounds, dripping to mingle with the fluids already present on the smaller man's throat.

"I WAS SAYING," Jevil muttered, tone lowering from its usual trill in a dangerous shift, "TO. S Q U E E Z E."

A shudder wracked Kaard's being as the imp illustrated his point by squeezing his entrance in kind, the Duke's hips grinding into the change of pressure of their own accord as a guttural groan escaped his lips. It took but a moment for him to recover, lashes fluttering open to reveal a disgusted glare.

"Why should'st I care about thine demented desires?" He shifted ever-so-slightly in an attempt to loosen the diminutive cur's grip, to no avail.

"MY WANTS? AH, YOU POOR MAN! POOR MAN!"

Much to Rouxls' confusion, laughter bubbled from the imp and his claws pulled back, though the iron grip remained. "POOR MAN," Jevil repeated through his giggles. "POOR DUKE! CAN'T SEE WHAT'S IN FRONT OF HIS EYES!"

"What--!" Rouxls began, only to be cut off as the jester tensed himself and pulled away ever-so slightly. The question gave way to a lowly uttered curse at the sensation.

"WHOSE WHIM FIRST CLOSED TWISTED FINGERS AROUND THIS THROAT OF MINE? CERTAINLY NOT ME! SUCH FALSE ACCUSATIONS! FALSE!"

Jevil released his grip entirely, waving his hand in a mocking and dismissive fashion. Rouxls knew, of course, that he was being goaded into action. And yet...

Jevil tried to catch him off-guard with a display of muscle control once more, though Rouxls was prepared for him. The squeak of surprise emitted by the other was almost as satisfying as the tight ring stroking his shaft as he withdrew alongside the next clench. When the jester relaxed again, Rouxls slammed forward eliciting another yelp in response to the rough treatment.

"Thou would claim I know not mine own whims?"

The dark glimmer of amusement in the jester's eyes was not lost to him as his fingers slowly-- tentatively-- curled once more around the smaller man's neck. The flutter in his gut as the pressure built was unmistakable.

His fingers closed until the soft flesh met the dense resistance beneath. And then, with those razor-like claws embedded in his forearm for a different reason entirely...

He squeezed.

**Author's Note:**

> (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
>  
> 
> .....
> 
>  
> 
> ┬─┬ ノ( ゜-゜ノ)


End file.
